Joined: Sun Jul 17, 2011 11:39 pmPosts: 1157Location: Within the system, masked as a member

Ten minutes, that's how long it took Cananatra to find a good set-up point, now Jacks is in position as well, and we're all just waiting. Carathyle thought, as he and Syjahel walked toward the Willow that Jacks used as cover, his eyes gazing over the hallow for the very first time. The vast size of the horde wasn’t near the estimate of 50, but a quick count did show that as they marched away from the hallow in an seemingly unorganized mob, little left to surprise in that way.

But things quickly seemed to turn against Cananatra, and in favor of Jacks, who now crept near the tents, still virtually undetected. With three of the six elves letting go of their respective position, leaving only three to remain, Carathyle had to resist an urge of just jumping down and charge straight for the chanting acolytes and the witch, still willing enough to kill her in fair duel. “That blasphemer sends half of her guard to oversee the horde that runs into our little trap. If we charge right in the moment Jacks is withdrawing with Naylia, we’ll slaughter them.” Carathyle exclaimed, a grin from ear to ear for the upcoming bloodshed. “And who could imagine the bonus we might get from capturing that chanting witch.”

However, Carathyle realized quite soon that the situation was too easy. He’d let his guard down too soon with only three guards, four acolytes and a headmaster witch as opponents. ”Naylia’s safety is guaranteed if we block the path behind Jacks and slowly back away, but if we charge right in with a lot of ruckus, we might catch the attention of the guards, the acolytes and the witch. There is also the option of just walking in.” With a keen eye, Carathyle gazed over the hallow, onto the altar and its occupants, and then he counted heads. eight in total of which three are visibly okay with a sword or spear. Four with an aptitude for magic, and one that is clearly a master of that.

”So, milady? What are we going to do? Cananatra is 10 minutes away at the least and the horde is gone, along with three of the guards. Cananatra really pulled off a good one this time, I say we use the opportunity and just take our chance with the guards here.” Carathyle’s eagerness for battle wasn’t this big of a deal normally, but this time, he wanted to repay that elf for the torment she threw onto them.

Suggesting a direct charge for the altar, with all consequences of such, block the path behind Jacks once he has Naylia and retreats, or just walk into the hallow and hope for the best

OOC: You guys just didn’t post, so don’t blame me for doing that! Gave y’all plenty of time!

The mass of life below Jacks shined as bright as Jacks had expected. The particular intensity in colour of the acolytes and the Sorceress didn't surprise Jacks, but he noted the difference anyway. His focus however, was at the tents beyond, and as he had hoped, there was a figure within one of the tents, the intensity in colour, seemingly more pure than the Sorceress'

"That must be Naylia's!" he guessed, judging from the similar intensity of someone with magical aptitude like the Sorceress and her acolytes, added with the fact that it's the only figure within a tent with guards in the area. Jacks also noted that the guards shone with a similar intensity and purity like the acolytes.

"How curious?" he muttered to himself. It wouldn't surprise Jacks if the guards had magical abilities to shapeshift like some of the Dalvians they encountered already. Or perhaps different races emitted different coloured life essence?

Learning about his magical artifact will have to wait for another time, he had found his target, and time was of the essence here. Jacks made his way around, feeling at home again within the forest, although it did bring back some unpleasant memories, recent and not so recent, but it was a comforting environment nonetheless.

Getting into position, Jacks checked with his artifact again, and fortunately he did, since it showed another guard was within the tent. It reassured Jacks that the figure next to the guard was more than likely Naylia's, but now he had to do something about the guard without startling their charge.

The horn sounded, signaling it was time for action, fortunately the herd did instinctively move towards the sound of false battle. Guards began to move too, and Jacks for a moment, though he was spotted already. He melded into the shadows of the forest, body tense and ready to fight for his life, but fortunately, it seemed like the guards were moving with the here instead. Was the Dark Mother smilng upon their good fortune? It sure made things easier for Jacks, he felt important to be given a solo and important task, but it also was a huge weight of pressure too. He still had to disable the guard within, and he had no a Unseen Chains left either.

"Time to do it the old fashion way then." he muttered to himself.

Repeater Handbow in hand, and a dagger in the other, he set about to cutting a small hole in the body of the tent, large enough to see through to know where to put his bolt into the neck of the guard.

Jacks will circle around to the side further from the guard to reduce the chance of him hearing Jacks cut into the tent. Line up a shot into the neck of the guard so he can't make much noticeable noise. Rescue Naylia if it is her, and collapse the tent if the guards have been alerted to trap them within to give Jacks and Naylia a headstart.

_________________What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

The heavy plate he wore made quite a difference he was forced to concede as he ran from the beastmen. He could hear them crashing about behind him, filthy beasts but still more than capable of running through a forest and able to follow a trail. The horn hung at his side, bouncing around and banging against his leg, though there was no need to blow it anymore with the beastmen so close. Mind you, it’s not like I could blow it even if I wanted to, too much like hard work. The clash of magic’s had been interesting though. It proved the horn did have some sort of power, it just didn’t seem to actually do anything concrete. Sure it annoyed the beastmen, but there was a good chance a normal horn would have done that.

As this passed through his mind he heard a brief snapping sound before the world inverted itself. For a moment he thought some strange magic had a hold of him and he twisted hoping to break free, but it soon became clear that it was a mundane rope about his foot. Now how bloody unlucky do you have to be to step in the one place in this damned forest which can trap you and pull you up a tree? The beastmen came to a skidding stop below him, which was something of a mixed relief as moments ago they were likely to kill him. They tried though, leaping up through the air to either catch or bash him. Neither seemed to work though, he was just a tad too high up. The amusement this caused was short lived when some of the brighter ones began to toss pieces of Petrified Forest at him. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but his armour proved easily able to deal with it.

Not long after arrows began to find their way into the beastmen’s vitals. Some hidden assailant was making short work of them. Casting his arms wide Cananatra laughed as he shouted at the beasts below him. “Fear my magic summoned arrows you filth!” It might not actually scare them all that much, but if it did, and if they understood him in the first place, it would be funny.

Cananatra will hang there and let the beastmen get shot up, calling some insults as time allows. If they’re seen off he’ll cut himself down with his sword and make certain to tuck into the fall as knocking himself out would be daft.

It wasn't a happy decision to split the group, but it was a tactically necessary one. Syjahel breathed a silent prayer to Khaine that Cananatra would succeed and not end his life on the point of a Beastman's blade. She liked the practicality of the Lustrian veteran, and the nicely developed musculature didn't hurt either. All of which was irrelevant to the mission and far from her mind now, as she watched and waited for Jacks to achieve his part of the mission, tense but alert. Cananatra must have had some success, because the mass of Beastmen suddenly broke into a run, baying after the sound of the horn she knew all to well. The thought of Dalvian monsters doing someone else's bidding brought a grim smile to her lips.

That left a few acolytes and the tainted Sorceress herself along with - hopefully - Sultra's youngest daughter hidden away in one of the tents. As Jacks edged towards them and vanished into the cover of the terrain, the two remaining mercenaries watched and tried to work out how best to proceed. Carathyle's initial idea was one laced with bloodlust, for which the warrior-woman could not blame him. But there was a time for gratifying the need to spill blood and this sadly was not that time. Before Syjahel could warn him of the ill-advised nature of rushing in headlong, he had moved on to more considered plans with barely a pause. It was good to see some of the impetuosity he'd displayed when they first met was more tempered now.

It was tempting to get a bit of revenge on the witch, but Syjahel wanted to concentrate on rescuing Naylia.

"Unless they notice us or Jacks we do not engage the witches, we keep Naylia as our top priority." she said quietly, "and we protect Jacks' retreat. If he comes back to us it will likely be at speed and Khaine willing, with the child. Keep your wits about you and be ready. We may yet need to distract them." She knew that Carathyle didn't need reminding to stay alert, but it helped her to focus her own mind. She drew her handbpw and made sure it was ready to fire. Syjahel knew she wasn't the best shot, but it was better to have some missile support.

Watch for trouble in case of needing to either defend or distract people from noticing Jacks. This is a tense time for Syjahel, but she has faith the Shade will do his best to secure Naylia. Keep her small crossbow handy.

Overlooking the clearing as it emptied Carathyle saw an opportunity to finally take his revenge on the sorceress. He had taken the group's defeat at her hands as a personal insult and this was the first opportunity he had had to wipe that stain from his memory. Standing by him however Syjahel was a little more level headed and reminded her fellow outcast noble that the mission came first, bloody vengeance could wait, hard as that could be for the Druchii. Jacks could well need their help very soon.

Jacks himself was just about to make his entry. The eye was proving useful, he knew for certain that there were two people inside the tent, of course he would have suspected some kind of guard inside but it was nice to have more information. Carefully Jacks readied his handbow as he made a small slit in the outer 'wall' of the tent. Peaking through the folds he saw a sight at once eerily familiar and strangely out of place. The tent was home to a large desk, the kind that Sultra was so fond of. There was an elf at the desk but oddly not behind it. Instead she sat on the end, a smallish female not in warrior’s mail but scholars robes and with a quill in hand as she worked away at some papers. Casting his eyes around Jacks soon found Naylia at the other side of the tent. At first glance she seemed to be sitting quietly in a chair reading a small book, and she was. A closer examination though would find a narrow chain around her ankle attached to the chair, though seemingly treated well enough the girl was certainly a prisoner. If she was being prepared for a sacrifice it was either early in the ritual or Tzeentch wasn't too fussy regarding special paint or clothes.

Much as Jacks hated killing women at least on this occasion he was doing it to save another one. Cursing a society that made this sort of thing necessary Jacks quietly raised up his handbow and took aim. A single bolt suddenly sprouted in the throat of the secretary and she grasped at the wound, choking horribly. Coughing and spluttering the dying elf splattered the desk with blood. The soft heart in Jacks hated it, the rest of him knew it was necessary. As daring rescues by valiant paladins of captured princesses wasn't it wasn't the most heroic ever recorded, but it would do.

Although a bolt in the neck was a relatively quiet way to kill someone Jacks knew that someone might have heard the noise, he had to move quickly. Opening up a larger slit with a jerk of his dagger Jacks slipped inside. Naylia saw him instantly, she had been distracted from her book by the sudden death of her keeper but in her disconcertingly mature way had not screamed nor made any move but to put down her book and gaze in a detached fashion. No need to sush a panicking child here, that was good at least. Moving over to where she was bound Jacks looked for a way to release her.

"There are keys inside her robes," Naylia whispered "it's a little bronze one," armed with this information Jacks made a swift investigation of the cooling corpse and found a bundle of keys to things that could not possibly be in this forest. Looking through the bunch he located a small bronze one. It fitted the lock perfectly and the narrow chain fell to the floor. Then something neither of them had expected happened. A loud wailing siren blasted through the quiet leaving Jacks covert action quite revealed. Outside the tent even through the blare Jacks keen senses picked up feet stirring themselves, he could think of only one place they were going.

At the willow tree Carathyle and Syjahel started at a sudden high note, like the droning of poorly played trumpets. They did not know the cause but they could certainly see the effects. The remaining guards headed directly towards the pavilion with all the speed they could muster, weapons drawn and shining. Aemili and her acolytes were likewise streaking down off their alter towards the tent.

Things may have been going slightly better for Cananatra, or perhaps slightly worse; it was an arguable. On the one hand he was in a pretty hopeless position, on the other hand he seemed to have unlooked for reinforcements, he could only hope they weren't the kind that would kill him.“Fear my magic summoned arrows you filth!”

It was doubtful whether the beastmen understood him or cared what he said but even if they didn't think the arrows were magic summoned they certainly feared them. They were being killed by them after all. Already many of them were twitching on the floor or else bleated in pain fuelled anger. The natural beastman response to a physical assault was immediate and brutal retaliation, the problem was there didn't seem to be anyone to attack. Some of them fled, some of them searched for a foe to hit, some of them stood their ground snarling, some of them battered the tree in frustration. All of them died or else disappeared into the forest. By far the greater number ran away rather than face the arrows and soon Cananatra felt safe enough to cut himself down. He fell was as much grace as he could but the impact still rocked him. Heavy armour was not designed to drop out of trees. Sitting up the warrior was just in time to see a grey shape drop from the branches of a neighbouring tree with considerably more elegance than he had managed.

It was an elf, that much Cananatra was fairly sure of. The basic shape was right, the flowing walk like liquid silk, the pointy ears. There were one or two oddities though. First of all its skin was grey, the same grey as its skin which in turn matched most of the petrified wood in the forest. For another it was quite short, not much above five feet. Finally there was the fact that Cananatra could not quite put a sex to it, hence the need to keep calling it, it. Although small the bow held ready in the grey elf's hand was a clear reminder, as if any were needed, that it could kill just as well as any Druchii. Glancing around at the trees the warrior tried to spy the others he knew must be lurking judging from the thick clouds of arrows. He couldn't see any.

"Why being thee leaf home-place in?" Cananatra blinked as he tried to decipher the words, it was closer to pure Eltharion than the Dhruk Eltharion spoken day to day in Naggaroth. Even so it was not true Eltharion but some bastardised copy, not unlike Druck Eltharion itself.

Right then in summary: Jacks is in the tent with a free Naylia but an alarm has gone off and all the remaining elves are heading for you. They will be there very shortly indeed. Carathyle and Syjahel know this is going on since they can see it from where they are. Cananatra is safe from beastmen but now has some elves to deal with whom while not immediately shooting him in the head are not exactly happy go lucky types. -Drainial

_________________Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

Arch Deacon of the RPG forumGentleman of Moderation

Sun Aug 12, 2012 11:08 pm

Meteor

Executioner

Joined: Sun Jul 18, 2010 10:57 amPosts: 1956Location: Hell

Jacks cursed at the cruel jokes the Dark Mother has played on him once again. It was time Jacks had learned the rule of equilibrium, to gain something, one must sacrifice another of equal value. A rule he refused to believe that governed nature, but here he was, blessed with good fortune, but had to choose between chivalry or failure.

"It had to be a female, and not even a guard for that matter...damn it all!"

He had already seen the wrath of his captain earlier at seeing him not lift a finger to help slay the female Dalvian. The thought of telling his companions that he had let them down because of his refusal to slay women in general, was laughable. Their Lord certainly wouldn't have any of such weakness in his employ, nor put up with it, especially when it meant failing to rescue his daughter.

Jacks hardened his resolve, he wiped his mind blank of thoughts and only concentrated. The bolt hit home, and he felt the pain as much as the secretary, he whispered a silent prayer for the unfortunate elf before he entered inside.

Jacks was a bit surprised at the impassive nature of this child with all this murdering and imprisonment, and he held a great deal of respect for her maturity and strength for that. Her chains were seen unlocked, and that's when it all became a problem.

"Ofcourse there had to be a catch to it all." he rolled his eyes in exasperation. Footsteps were heard also most immediately when the siren went off, this time, Jacks knew they were well and truly heading this way.

"Hurry! Let's be on our way.

Jacks led Naylia out from the back of the tent.

"Head into the forest and make your way towards the willow tree. Your friend Syjahel will be waiting for you up ahead. If not, wait by that tree until one of us comes to receive you. I'll be right behind you, but keep on moving." Jacks instructed her in a hurried voice as they stepped outside.

He circled to the edge of the tent to take stock of how many we're coming towards them. His eyes widened when he realized that they were all heading this way, Sorceress and all. He turned back to the tent and flashed out his short sword, he hurriedly cut the ropes on his side before sprinting to the other side of the tent to do the same. Hopefully collapsing even the back of it will entangle some of the Dalvians within to buy Naylia and himself some time.

Lead Naylia out the back way that he cut in from. Instruct her to make for the willow tree where Syjahel and Carathyle are stationed via the tree line he came in from. Jacks has no doubt that the two will be coming in, he just hopes Naylia will run into one of them on her way over.

Meanwhile, Jacks will cut the ropes on the backside of the tent to collapse the side they're escaping from. He aims to buy Naylia running time with that. He will flee, following Naylia, if the guards and Sorceress are catching up, he will stand and fight with his Handbow and Short Sword until help arrives.

OOC: Bit of Boromire in action here? Hopefully the Sorceress doesn't put a bolt of something into Jacks D:

_________________What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

Joined: Sun Jul 17, 2011 11:39 pmPosts: 1157Location: Within the system, masked as a member

Seeing the guards rush to the tent the moment the alarm is raised, Carathyle realized that the time of waiting was finally over. "I'm heading in. You intercept Naylia and escort her away from here. Instruct Jacks to start picking off targets from the ridge. Main problem is the girl, forget about all else and make sure she is secure. Should be easy for a Druchii like you." Carathyle spoke in a calm mind, as he took a deep breath, centering his mind on the task to come. Khaine, play my sword as your tool, and let me strike the opposition down fast and painless. The thoughts of Carathyle were mere prayers. A smile emerged on his feature as he realized the irony of that what he just said.

"Hey Syjahel, don't forget one thing," Carathyle paused as he turned his head toward the warrior princess, "You still owe me a drink." His hand wrapped around the hilt of the steel sword, Carathyle pulled it out of its sheath. Ditch this one in the first Elf I meet. Then pull my own sword and start tearing through them, easy enough. Carathyle jumped off the ledge and used the angle of the hallow to lower himself toward Jacks and Naylia.

Carathyle will descend the slopes and get behind Naylia, securing the path behind her. If Jacks is engaged, Carathyle will charge for the elves that are in combat with him, instructing him to retreat while he takes care of the annoying pests.

If Jacks runs past Carathyle before the guards could reach him, Carathyle will charge for the pursuers, trying to impale the first one on his steel sword before discarding it and draw his obsidian sword in the motion of side-stepping the impaled guard. If he is attacked, he'll block with the shield and draw attacking, so aiming for the stomach(even if it's plated, Strength 4 and the increase of the sword should do the trick in that case). His goal of this all is make sure Naylia and Syjahel have time to get to a safe distance, his second goal is kill or capture the Aemili.

His shouting seemed to have no effect on the Beastmen, which wasn’t really a surprise when you thought about it. They may have had some language but the chances of them learning the speech of the Druchii was slim. Nevertheless the fright was upon them. The arrows lancing into unprotected flesh as they turned this way and that trying in vain to find their attacker. If Cananatra was perfectly honest with himself he felt something of the uncertainty they felt, even his eyes could not pick out the attackers beyond the direction the bolts came from.

When the last of them was dead upon the ground or well fled into the forest he pulled his sword free, an action which was surprisingly more difficult while inverted. Once it was in his hand he hacked at the rope binding his leg. The rope was tough and only frayed in the first slash, weak as it was with only his arms strength behind it but the second slash bit deep and the rope parted with a crack. Twisting as he fell Cananatra took the landing on his shoulder, rather than his head and was careful not to impale himself. Despite this the landing was rough, as only a full suite of armour falling from a tree can be.

Grumbling to himself he levered himself upright with his sword only to see something grey drop from a tree. For an instant he thought it was some other damn monstrosity of the forest but soon he saw it was an elf, though one of unusual hue. His instincts where somewhat conflicted at this point as his arm wished to attack but his brain was reminding it firmly that there was no doubt other bolts aimed at him. As the elf closed with him it spoke and at first it sounded like pointless jibberish. Running the sounds through his head again he figured it as some sort of uncommon dialect. They wanted to know why he was here. Seeing no real reason to lie, too much, he replied.

“We were hired to rescue a young woman kidnapped from her family by a sorceress. She led us a merry chase into these most unusual of forests. My companions are no doubt attempting a rescue. I drew off the beastmen to give them a chance.” Cananatra paused for a beat before continuing. “My thanks in seeing off the beasts, I was unlikely to manage it alone.”

Syjahel watched and waited tensely. Then at once everything was a blur of motion. Though she couldn't see the details from here, Jacks' venture had been noticed and the alarm shrieking out was loud enough to wake the dead. Instantly she was drawing her sword and about to run forward when Carathyle, no slower on the draw, leapt in with a plan.

"I'm heading in. You intercept Naylia and escort her away from here. Instruct Jacks to start picking off targets from the ridge. Main problem is the girl, forget about all else and make sure she is secure. Should be easy for a Druchii like you."

With a grim nod she took the compliment, though with the presence of sorcery she was by no means certain. Still, it does nothing for morale to see the Captain doubtful, so she kept this to herself.
"You can't take them all on by yourself. I'm coming with you, Jacks knows what to do to get the girl to safety - we just need to give him time." She drew up her shield and prepared to take the opposite side to Carathyle's approach, hoping to split the Dalvian party two ways and keep them from following the girl and the Shade."You take the right flank and I'll take the left. Don't let anyone slip past - use the tents as cover. We should be able to channel them into a smaller area if we make good use of them."

"And I'll be sure to get you that drink!"

With a drawn sword and a loud battlecry she sprinted towards the onrushing party, hoping to distract them from the escape and then to physically interpose herself between the Dalvians and their prey.

Aim to get between the Dalvians and Naylia and Jacks Use the terrain to our advantage. I'm thinking of Nagaira's encampment in the Malus Darkblade books, with rows of tents. If possible collapse them on people, set them on fire, anything to cause confusion and stop them from getting to the girl. Also, stab people. Khaine (and Syjahel!) wants blood! But this is not the time to gratify her need for vengeance, she wants to get the job done.

Much put out by the necessity of having to kill an unarmed women Jacks was not about to lose another one. With a quick series of instructions to Naylia Jacks was just behind the young elf in scampering back out of the tent the way he had come. They were barely clear when the front flap rustled behind them as the first of the elven guards entered the tent. As the little lady ran into the trees, hopefully towards the tenuous safety of the willow tree, Jacks had other plans. With his knife he quickly severed the nearest ropes holding the tent taut making the back half of the large silk structure bend in on itself. The falling material clearly enraged the elf within judging from the stream of curses coming from within as he became entangled. Jacks was not slow to join Naylia in the woods but before he could disappear away from the eyes of the heretical city folk the other two guards rounded the side of the tent.

Jacks' waiting handbow flicked up and spat a shower of bolts towards the nearest elf, most skittered off the heavy chainmail he wore but one found a gap under his arm. The guard fell to one knee, dropping his spear to clasp his side. There was no time to shoot again however and the second guard was upon him. Knowing that leading the guards to Naylia and still having to face them would be worse than facing them here Jacks sheathed his dagger and drew his sword just in time to block a heavy downward strike from the maul this guard carried. Fortunately he had left his shield elsewhere, or else did not care for them. Still he was clad from head to foot in medium armour and if previous Dalvian armsmen were anything to go by not lacking in skill.

The siren call did not go unnoticed by the warriors on the ridge. Carathyle had a debt to settle and now an acceptable tactical excuse. They could not see Jacks escape with the girl from where they were but what else could have set off such an alarm? The shade needed a distraction to get away, or failing that reinforcements. If nothing else they could draw away some of the attention. Syjahel was of a similar mind and with a loud war cry amid soldierly camaraderie sprinted after her brother in arms and towards the sorceress and her acolytes.

The three remaining warrior guards had already headed either into the tent or around it, the magical contingent however was still right in the middle of the clearing when they heard piercing war cries from above. Looking round they saw two young warriors, armed to the teeth, rushing towards them fast. This did not appear to worry them unduly, after all theirs was the god of magic, a force which these simple creatures could not comprehend let along stand against.

Stopping in their tracks Aemili and the four acolytes stretched out their hands and began chanting yet again. This was a shorter chant for shorter spells. Blue and green flames appeared in the hands of the lesser magi and in the adhoc fashion expected of such eccentrics they threw them at the mercenaries. The problem with throwing fire balls though is that conjuring them is only half the battle, you also have to be able to throw. Two of the acolytes it seemed were not born sportsmen. The balls of fire had been aimed at the nearest elf, Carathyle. One of them sailed over his shoulder, another fell short. As the other two splashed over him, hitting his shield and his feet in an engulfing blast, Carathyle felt the null stone at his chest flare up with a painful heat, the rest of him however escaped the burning effect of the fires altogether. His charge was uninterrupted.

Moments later Carathyle hit the nearest astonished acolyte full on. The elf, seemingly amazed that Carathyle was not now a charred pile of meat, did not even try to block with his staff as Carathyle rammed his blade into his stomach. Ignoring the Vauvulkar's death screams Carathyle left the steel sword trapped in his gut and drew his favoured obsidian blade. It seemed to sing in his hand as two generations of bloodlust screamed for violence. The acolytes were now in motion however, chanting new spells and bringing their staffs round to fight. Carathyle met the next one in his way, seeking to cut through them quickly to get to the sorceress herself. Immediately though it became apparent that the elves would not go down without a fight. The mage he was now fighting spoke a word and purple flame engulfed his long staff. Carathyle slashed, trying to sheer straight through the wood with his superior strength and enchanted sword but found the staff like iron. Already the other two acolytes were running towards with their own staffs.

The three lesser mages seemed to feel free to gang up on Carathyle because their mistress had turned her attention towards Syjahel. This one held no staff but held out a bejewelled finger. Incanting in some terrible tongue Aemili let forth a near invisible ripple of energy. This gave Syjahel no pause but the air continued to shimmer and as she got within ten paces of the sorceress the ether was rent asunder. From a small portal leapt a strange creature, if creature it could be called. Shifting and changing before her very eyes it appeared half made of flame, half of some warped flesh. Three legs and one arm became two legs and three arms before settling on four legs and one bulging arm. Around these flailing limbs a terrible maw stayed constant, circular and full with row upon row of serrated teeth. Convulsing the daemon belched forth a jet of flame that impacted on Syjahel's shield; fortunately her null stone flared leaving her untouched for now.

Away from all of this Cananatra had a situation of another sort to deal with. Getting back to his feet the warrior managed to decipher the archaic and confused speech of his rescuers and decided that honesty was the best policy. The small elf in front of him looked every bit as confused by Druck Eltharian as Cananatra had been by his speech but after several moments consideration she (for on closer inspection Cananatra saw that the elf was indeed female) spoke again.

"You hunt the wryd kin and element speakers?," she seemed musing and did not wait for an answer before calling up to the trees. A rapid series of words brought three more of her kind leaping down, all of them with what looked like bows of living stone nocked though not yet drawn. Whether or not there were still others out of sight the warrior could not say. He could see none, but until they revealed themselves he hadn't seen these ones either."Follow unto, leaf-home-prince will see. Many new folk, judgment follows."The elf's words were strange but in any language Cananatra knew when an offer was no choice, he would go with them, or else he would fight.

Naylia got into the woods before the guards saw her but Jacks is engaged with one of them while another is badly wounded but not dead. Carathyle is in combat with all three remaining acolytes. They are un-armoured and armed with staffs. Syjahel is about three feet away from a summoned Flamer of Tzeentch. Aemili is about five feet behind both these combats.

Cananatra is in much the same position but there are now four forest elves that he can see, and probably more that he can't. Thanks for the quick posting guys. -Drainial

_________________Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

Much put out by the necessity of having to kill an unarmed women Jacks was not about to lose another one. With a quick series of instructions to Naylia Jacks was just behind the young elf in scampering back out of the tent the way he had come. They were barely clear when the front flap rustled behind them as the first of the elven guards entered the tent. As the little lady ran into the trees, hopefully towards the tenuous safety of the willow tree, Jacks had other plans. With his knife he quickly severed the nearest ropes holding the tent taut making the back half of the large silk structure bend in on itself. The falling material clearly enraged the elf within judging from the stream of curses coming from within as he became entangled. Jacks was not slow to join Naylia in the woods but before he could disappear away from the eyes of the heretical city folk the other two guards rounded the side of the tent.

Jacks' waiting handbow flicked up and spat a shower of bolts towards the nearest elf, most skittered off the heavy chainmail he wore but one found a gap under his arm. The guard fell to one knee, dropping his spear to clasp his side. There was no time to shoot again however and the second guard was upon him. Knowing that leading the guards to Naylia and still having to face them would be worse than facing them here Jacks sheathed his dagger and drew his sword just in time to block a heavy downward strike from the maul this guard carried. Fortunately he had left his shield elsewhere, or else did not care for them. Still he was clad from head to foot in medium armour and if previous Dalvian armsmen were anything to go by not lacking in skill.

The siren call did not go unnoticed by the warriors on the ridge. Carathyle had a debt to settle and now an acceptable tactical excuse. They could not see Jacks escape with the girl from where they were but what else could have set off such an alarm? The shade needed a distraction to get away, or failing that reinforcements. If nothing else they could draw away some of the attention. Syjahel was of a similar mind and with a loud war cry amid soldierly camaraderie sprinted after her brother in arms and towards the sorceress and her acolytes.

The three remaining warrior guards had already headed either into the tent or around it, the magical contingent however was still right in the middle of the clearing when they heard piercing war cries from above. Looking round they saw two young warriors, armed to the teeth, rushing towards them fast. This did not appear to worry them unduly, after all theirs was the god of magic, a force which these simple creatures could not comprehend let along stand against.

Stopping in their tracks Aemili and the four acolytes stretched out their hands and began chanting yet again. This was a shorter chant for shorter spells. Blue and green flames appeared in the hands of the lesser magi and in the adhoc fashion expected of such eccentrics they threw them at the mercenaries. The problem with throwing fire balls though is that conjuring them is only half the battle, you also have to be able to throw. Two of the acolytes it seemed were not born sportsmen. The balls of fire had been aimed at the nearest elf, Carathyle. One of them sailed over his shoulder, another fell short. As the other two splashed over him, hitting his shield and his feet in an engulfing blast, Carathyle felt the null stone at his chest flare up with a painful heat, the rest of him however escaped the burning effect of the fires altogether. His charge was uninterrupted.

Moments later Carathyle hit the nearest astonished acolyte full on. The elf, seemingly amazed that Carathyle was not now a charred pile of meat, did not even try to block with his staff as Carathyle rammed his blade into his stomach. Ignoring the Vauvulkar's death screams Carathyle left the steel sword trapped in his gut and drew his favoured obsidian blade. It seemed to sing in his hand as two generations of bloodlust screamed for violence. The acolytes were now in motion however, chanting new spells and bringing their staffs round to fight. Carathyle met the next one in his way, seeking to cut through them quickly to get to the sorceress herself. Immediately though it became apparent that the elves would not go down without a fight. The mage he was now fighting spoke a word and purple flame engulfed his long staff. Carathyle slashed, trying to sheer straight through the wood with his superior strength and enchanted sword but found the staff like iron. Already the other two acolytes were running towards with their own staffs.

The three lesser mages seemed to feel free to gang up on Carathyle because their mistress had turned her attention towards Syjahel. This one held no staff but held out a bejewelled finger. Incanting in some terrible tongue Aemili let forth a near invisible ripple of energy. This gave Syjahel no pause but the air continued to shimmer and as she got within ten paces of the sorceress the ether was rent asunder. From a small portal leapt a strange creature, if creature it could be called. Shifting and changing before her very eyes it appeared half made of flame, half of some warped flesh. Three legs and one arm became two legs and three arms before settling on four legs and one bulging arm. Around these flailing limbs a terrible maw stayed constant, circular and full with row upon row of serrated teeth. Convulsing the daemon belched forth a jet of flame that impacted on Syjahel's shield; fortunately her null stone flared leaving her untouched for now.

Away from all of this Cananatra had a situation of another sort to deal with. Getting back to his feet the warrior managed to decipher the archaic and confused speech of his rescuers and decided that honesty was the best policy. The small elf in front of him looked every bit as confused by Druck Eltharian as Cananatra had been by his speech but after several moments consideration she (for on closer inspection Cananatra saw that the elf was indeed female) spoke again.

"You hunt the wryd kin and element speakers?," she seemed musing and did not wait for an answer before calling up to the trees. A rapid series of words brought three more of her kind leaping down, all of them with what looked like bows of living stone nocked though not yet drawn. Whether or not there were still others out of sight the warrior could not say. He could see none, but until they revealed themselves he hadn't seen these ones either."Follow unto, leaf-home-prince will see. Many new folk, judgment follows."The elf's words were strange but in any language Cananatra knew when an offer was no choice, he would go with them, or else he would fight.

Naylia got into the woods before the guards saw her but Jacks is engaged with one of them while another is badly wounded but not dead. Carathyle is in combat with all three remaining acolytes. They are un-armoured and armed with staffs. Syjahel is about three feet away from a summoned Flamer of Tzeentch. Aemili is about five feet behind both these combats.

Cananatra is in much the same position but there are now four forest elves that he can see, and probably more that he can't. Thanks for the quick posting guys. -Drainial

_________________Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

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Tue Aug 14, 2012 9:44 pm

Carathyle maveric

Malekith's Best Friend

Joined: Sun Jul 17, 2011 11:39 pmPosts: 1157Location: Within the system, masked as a member

With the initial plan of attack being to at least take away half of the pursuing force, Carathyle rushed down the from the ridge, eyes directed at the first elf that would eventually cross his path. Unfortunately, the warcry of Syjahel and the tumbling of the rocks they moved partially through gave their direct position away. The witch and her lackeys turned toward the two charging noble "outcasts", raising their tainted and foul hands toward them, as they started to chant another spell. One Carathyle easily could expect. Each of the acolytes took a fireball in hand and hurled them at him. Two missed, two hit, however the Null Talisman did his job. "You should leave throwing things to real elves!" Carathyle exclaimed once he got close enough.

With all of his momentum, and a surprisingly continued momentum, Carathyle slammed the steel sword into the body of the acolyte, impaling the poor fellow onto the true steel of a true Druchii. However, to enjoy this faithful event was to sacrifice his life to sorcery and such a vile thing should not take a noble like himself down that easily. Considering the sword for lost, Carathyle let go of it, and went straight to his most favored artifact that he could have, the long bladed obsidian sword. With a firm grip, Carathyle pulled it free in mere moments, as the next acolyte had already placed himself well in Carathyle's chosen path. With a quick slash toward the stomach of the newly acquired opponent, Carathyle came to an astonishing discovery. With the staff they wielded engulfed in purplish flames, not even the well powered nobleman with his enchanted sword could break through the seemingly Iron wood. What kind of sorcery is this?! Carathyle thought as he let loose a barrage of attacks toward the elf, all blocked by the elf. Ah, I see. Bloody magic! Well then, if your defense is too high to take on, let's see how your attack is.

Spinning the obsidian sword around in his hand, Carathyle's brashness emerged once again, a grin on his feature revealed as much. Softly, nearly silent, Carathyle let out a laugh from the back of his throat, as his mind was already occupied with the ways to evade the staff's protection. However, even though he thought he figured out what the "problem" was, the two other remaining acolytes pulled off the same stunt, and came in running.

With the two in his flank and the one in front, Carathyle quickly realized that this situation wasn't completely in his favor. As swift as the Druchii were, this time swiftness wasn't the main concern. Stepping back enough to have all three facing him in front, Carathyle hoped this would increase his chances.

Carathyle will move back, wary of attack.

In case of three simultaneous attacks, he'll side-step the one from the front to either side, raise his shield to block the staff from hitting his armor directly and spin the sword to face back, then stab the (****)er in the stomach!

If he isn't attacked by the mages, he'll renew his charge at the center one. This time, he'll use his shield to bash the staff away(hopefully!) and he'll aim for the head with his sword, hopefully while remaining in the motion of the charge.

OOC: I figured as much. Cananatra! WHY DID YOU TAKE THE TWO NULL TALISMANS?!

IC: The elfs speech was still devilishly difficult to make out though it was welcome to see she, and he had at last figured out it was a she, had as much difficulty with his own language as he did with hers. It was clear these new players knew of the Dalvains and that they had some sort of sorcery. Though I don’t particularly like the whole judgement idea. I hope I’m misinterpreting that. It was disconcerting to have the others who helped him virtually invisible. The four who showed themselves where clearly not all there were. It was likely some hunting party, or they where shadowing the dalvains. From what he could see though, he hadn’t much choice.

“I’d be honour to meet you leaf-home-prince. Just don’t expect me to move through the trees like you.” He added a slight smile as he spoke and sheathed his sword.

Syjahel's expression betrayed her disgust for the unclean magics. Not only were these outcasts and renegade Sorcerers, they were flagrantly in league with Chaos in all its vile taint.

Just how in league, she was about to find out.

The warrior-woman went straight for the lead Sorceress, determined to make a grim example of those who mock the Witch King and the true heritage of Nagarythe. A blast of searing magical force engulfed her, and for a moment Syjahel wasn't sure if the null stone would hold. Thankfully, Khaine did not mean to take her just yet. The tainted magic washed around her but did her no harm.

Striding over to engage the renegade Sorceress, Syjahel sensed that the others had left their mistress to this fight alone. This might have given her a grim satisfaction elsewhere, but she was under no illusions that this would be an easy fight. Every Druchii maiden, degenerate or not, knew how to wield whatever weapons were to hand as best they would serve them.

Just as she was about the show the witch the uses of good Druchii steel the spell frothing on her lips caused a strange, mutated horror to spring into being just as if it had a right to existence outside the Realm of the Damned.

Raising her shield, the young noblewoman decided to respond in the way she knew best: with as much brutal violence and speed as possible. If it was a philosophy good enough to make the Dark Elves feared across the seven seas, it would serve here.

Engage the Tzeentchy thing with the same style as she uses most often: use her shield to batter it back and watch out for any normal attacks, then try to target its midsection as this is most likely where whatever it has for vitals are (judging by sheer body mass alone). Syjahel is expecting magic attacks, but she can't counter those herself and she also wants to deal with Aemili - one thing at a time. Kill evil pet, then to Sorceress. But try to keep it between Aemili and herself so she can sort of use it as a magic-shield.

OOC: Does this one have tentacles, Drainial??

EDIT: It is a horror of Tzeentch, so no tentacles at the moment. I can't vouch for what it might turn into though, they can be wonderfully versatile. -Drainial

_________________RIP Group 28~ We Never Slept ~

Thu Aug 16, 2012 8:25 pm

Meteor

Executioner

Joined: Sun Jul 18, 2010 10:57 amPosts: 1956Location: Hell

The plan worked relatively well, Naylia escaped out of sight of the guards, he just hopes she makes it to the willow tree relatively safely. Since it seems like the brash young noble had been given the permission to cause havoc. It suited Jacks fine, he had no wish to contend with sorcery and suffer the pains his companions did earlier at the caravan. Turning back to stall the guards, his trusty marksmanship saw him through once more as one of his bolts found a gap in one of the guard's armour.

Flashing his short sword out in natural reflex, he deflected a crippling blow from the other guard.

"Heh, you're slow." Jacks taunted his opponent.

He sidestepped another blow from his opponent before skipping back a few paces to distance himself and checked his handbow for ammunition. His physical strength wasn't great, it came from his speed and accuracy, naturally as a Shade.

Jacks steadied his breathing as he waited for his opponent to charge at him again. His opponent might not be Gilnaresh, but he was still a Dalvian Elf, Jacks isn't going to take his chances.

Jacks will taunt the guard to come at him, then take advantage of any openings or create an opportunity to put a bolt into the guard's face

_________________What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

It was immediately apparent that Carathyle wasn't going to be able to break through to the hated sorceress as quickly as he would have liked and as three elves bore down on him it became more a question of if rather than when. Recognising that three elves, even unarmoured elves, were a serious threat Carathyle forewent rabid attack in favour of a more tactical approach of which his teachers would have been proud. Stepping back he sought to keep all three attackers where he could see them. The trouble would be keeping them in front for they were moving too, trying to outflank him, besides they needed room to use their staffs. Blazing fire engulfed Carathyle's shield as repeated attacks by flame wreathed staffs were repulsed, the null stone burned with a near constant pain on the centre of his chest as it fought to repel the harmful energies. The warrior could not win through defence alone, nor was that his plan. Putting his shoulder into a block he chose his moment well and battered one of the staff's aside, ripping his obsidian blade across the stomach of his first assailant. Even as his father's spirit gave a silent cry of triumph Carathyle felt his chest burn at the same time as his right leg gave way. One of the acolytes had gotten round him and with an accurate blow to the back of the knee had driven him to his knees. The remaining two acolytes renewed their assault, knowing that he would not be down for long.

Mere feet away but ignored by Carathyle in his own plight Syjahel was faced by an odd foe. The pulsating daemon was like nothing she had ever faced but she only knew one way to deal with monsters, with only a second's hesitation the warrior princess charged in. Behind her raised shield Syjahel weathered another searing blast of arcane fire, the null stone seemingly collecting the heat and scalding the skin where it rested. She ignored such pain however and hammered home her attack. Hitting the horror was like hitting a brick wall coating with sponge. The unreal flesh first gave way and then snapped back with startling force that threw Syjahel back half a step. In his opening the horrible serrated maw let out another blast of fire right into her face and though the null stone flared into life to protect her from a terrible death the brightness momentarily cost the mercenary her vision. Blindly she struck out, her sword parting the horror's flesh with ease. As her blade passed through though it seemed to join up behind, closing the wound almost as soon as it was opened. With an obscene giggle quite out of place coming from such an awful daemonic beast the horror threw itself forward, paying little mind to the sword still stuck through it and billowing fire as it knocked Syjahel backwards. The elf stumbled back, her sword sliding clear far too easily. Gazing at the monster it seemed that her attack had made no impression at all, the horror was unharmed and though she bore no injury herself, who knew how long the null stones would last? Behind the daemon Aemili just laughed, a giggle from a prettier mouth but no less obscene.

Behind the tent Jacks faced off with a more familiar opponent, no magic here but plenty of danger. Taunting his latest enemy Jacks made ready to deal with the warrior as he always had, with agility and skill. He knew he was no match for the elf toe to toe, the armour gave him too much of an advantage. Snapping off a handbow shot Jacks slid around a heavy blow and blocked another with his sword. He knew he needed to find a gap in the elf's defences for he could sparsely hope to hack through heavy chain with only his plain old short sword. It was a decent enough weapon but was beginning to look a little underwhelming compared to the master crafted and magical blades carried by the others. Ducking a high blow the shade sliced down the elf's thigh but found the armour well maintained. Rolling aside to avoid a neck breaking strike he fired another bolt to drive the Dalvian back while he regained his feet. His earlier wounds were slowing him down, treated as they had been they were still stiff. Given time he knew he could probably ware the warrior out, armour was heavy after all, but time was not on his side. As they fought the collapsed tent grew another door, the guard he had trapped in their sliced her way out and emerged looking rather cross. Drawing a second sword to complement the one she had used to cut her way out of the fallen tent the Dalvian locked her gaze on Jacks. Unlike the other guards she was only lightly armoured in treated leather, unlike the other guards she bore the tattoos of the shade clans. To be precise, his shade clan. Knowing that he would soon be faced by another enemy, one as quick and nimble as himself, Jacks leapt into action. He had to put down the warrior quickly. Parrying a heavy blow with his sword Jacks lanced the blade into the Dalvian's thigh, the tip finding a gap in the armour he must have noticed subconsciously. Spitting curses the warrior stumbled and fell to one knee and with no time for cleaver quips or famous last words Jacks drilled a bolt into the back of his neck. Though he was turned away though Jacks could sense that the female shade was almost upon him.

Far removed from all of this Cananatra found himself invited to go for a little walk, to meet the prince. Resisting the temptation of cliché the warrior agreed to meet their leader, not that he had much choice in the matter. Following the little elf Cananatra was distinctly aware that the three who had joined the first had fanned out behind him. They clearly did not want him getting away. They did not speak as they walked leaving Cananatra to muse on what had already been said. 'Judgement follows' didn't sound particularly friendly, but the dialect was strange and it might not be as threatening as in Druck Eltharian. Then again it could be even worse than he knew, there was no way to tell. Moving through the forest floor the elves were quiet as shades, his own footfalls sounding like cannons in the silence. Though not a sentimental elf by nature Cananatra found himself wishing for a burst of birdsong or the rustling of leaves in the wind, this kind of silence in a forest was just so unnatural. Even so the noise when it came was most unwelcome. A galloping sound, faint at first but quickly drawing closer. The forest elves certainly saw it as a threat, nocking their bows they rushed to take defensive positions with trees at their backs while Cananatra was left in the middle of the small clearing they were walking in. With so little undergrowth and few small trees little clearings like this were very common in the petrified forest.

The mercenary was no shade but he did have a well honed sense for danger, drawing his sword and pulling his shield across his body he readied for combat. He was not wrong. Bursting out from the trees to his left and right came beastmen, but not such as he had seen. Rather than the bestial but humanoid forms of the Gors and Ungors these ran on four. A horse like body gave way to the familiar Gor's torso and head, Centigors. Fortunately there were only four of them but each carried either a club or a long stone tipped spear and they massively outweighed even Cananatra let alone his tiny guides. Despite this bulk the first Centigor to emerge fell braying to the ground with four arrows lodged in its neck and chest. The other three however just kept on coming.

Carathyle has killed one acolyte, two more to go. Jacks has killed one guard, one fit and one injured to go. If you want to recognise the shade from your clan as anyone you know please name them and have fun with it, if not then she can just be a shade. Syjahel has made no lasting impression on the horror. Cananatra is faced by three Centigors but does at least have the forest elves on his side. -Drainial

_________________Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

Arch Deacon of the RPG forumGentleman of Moderation

Last edited by Drainial on Sun Aug 19, 2012 4:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Sun Aug 19, 2012 2:45 pm

Cananatra

Malekith's Personal Guard

Joined: Fri Nov 16, 2007 8:19 pmPosts: 910Location: Dublin, Ireland

The small elves didn’t say anything as he moved to follow the first one. They obviously weren’t ones for conversation, though Cananatra noted that the majority of those he could see had dropped behind him. Sensible really when dealing with a potential enemy but still, the idea of three bows pointing at his back gave him a serious itch between his shoulder blades. If he hadn’t glanced over his shoulder he wouldn’t have even known the three where behind him, so silently did they move. Before long the oppressive silence began to grate on his nerves and the temptation to whistle or some such was great. Before he could get seriously bored though a sound could be heard, hooves on earth, closing in.

The elves obviously had some idea what it was that was coming because to a man they made for the trees and done their little disappearing act. Taking his cue from them Cananatra drew his sword and readied his shield. If it was a common foe such as more beastmen then they would no doubt help again. If it was his employer, things might get a little sticky. Whichever it was to be he didn’t have long to wait as a quartet of beastmen came into view. For a moment he thought it was some bright pack which had figured out how to ride horses before he realised they were short a few heads for that. Clearly this was just another of the many varieties that existed, a horse beastmen hybrid. Luckily their weapons where primitive, clubs and stone tipped spears; neither of which alone was a serious threat to his armour. Mind you, they are rather large. Almost as he thought it the first one was down with arrows sticking out of it though as usual this didn’t stop the others.

Seeing he had little option but to take them on as he would horsemen Cananatra bent his legs slightly and readied himself for their charge.

If they try to run him down with a charge Cananatra will pick the closest and wait for it to reach him. Just before it does he will step to the creatures off side (the one without the weapon in hand) and drop to one knee. He will then hack forward with his sword at the creatures front legs as it charges past him, just as infantry would do against cavalry. If this is effective or not he will roll away from the beastman and come to his feet, hopefully with the others also carried past him by the momentum of their charge. If they come in slow rather than charge he’ll happily meet them in combat and fight more or less as normal.

Joined: Sun Jul 17, 2011 11:39 pmPosts: 1157Location: Within the system, masked as a member

"Those buggers don't know when they're outmatched... or I don't know when I'm outmatched." Carathyle hissed to himself, angry by the fact that he let himself get into this miserable situation. A quick glance to his sides allowed him to quickly, however briefly, observe the situation at Syjahel. A daemonic appearance had formed onto the battlefield, and she did not wield a single magical weapon of any sorts. What to do? he thought briefly, before he raised his shield in defense against an attack. The Talisman around his neck burned, and the burning wasn't a sensation to feel at all. Come on, don't die on me now you blasted thing! Carathyle thought, keeping the staff's at bay as much as he could.

However, defensive fighting wasn't his thing. It was all nice and easy when it was necessary, but it just didn't fit his style of combat, nor that of his proud lineage. Even though he was outnumbered only three to one, it would have been really nice if Syjahel, or Jacks, could come out to help along. Unfortunately, Jacks was busy doing Khaine knows what, and Syjahel was having an entire problem of her own, and Cananatra, who knows what became of him?

With each repelled attack, Carathyle's smile of havoc increased only further and further, actually enjoying the battering and the burning of the Null Talisman. It was his way of cooping with the pain it actually gave. However, all the attacks that he blocked, all were for the greater good, as the moment he was waiting for arrived. Seeing an opening in his opponent's defenses, Carathyle dashed forward, blocking the staff from protecting against the incoming blow, and there went the Acolytes life. With the obsidian sword wreaking havoc through the stomach of the Acolyte, Carathyle could hear the joy of his father's soul, as blood slowly dripped down from the blade. A short lived moment of victory was cut extremely short by the pain of the talisman burning fiercely, as he was pushed to one knee.

Carathyle knew that, even under tough circumstance, the most brash of the people should survive. His eyes quickly looked at the acolytes one by one, before interacting with their motions.

Carathyle will counter-charge the acolyte that he sees approaching(so the one to the left). He'll use his shield again to take the staff out of the question, then slash the stomach again, this time from left to right in a side-step motion.

OOC: Don't want to take chances of getting him to rush at the sorceress. Perhaps after one of the acolyte's death.

The unnatural beast was resilient as if it were made of whale blubber, yet it cut like soft cheese. With a growl of frustration, not helped by the inane twittering of the Sorceress in the background, Syjahel brought back her shield and caught a blast of flame to the face.

It was plainly only the null talismans that were allowing her to withstand this fight at all. It was galling, but there was no sense in pretending otherwise and the wounds to her ego would heal. She had to think of a new strategy fast.

There wasn't time for much in the way of strategic thinking. Her old tutor had taught her well when the opponents were Elves or Humans, and given her some useful advice for the less useful combatants she might face should she take a tour of duty on the Northern walls, but there was simply nothing like this to practice on in the Vasht family training grounds. However, he had taught her one thing: eyes, throat, heart. She couldn't seemingly cut the Horror's throat, and its eyes kept moving. If it had a heart or even several then they too were doubtless well protected by its rubbery skin. But with a little bit of variation, she might have a plan that worked.

Blocking the waving arms, Syjahel waited for the next time the Horror opened its fanged mouth.

Wait for the next time the Horror goes to breathe and stab it in the throat - from the inside. Syjahel will attempt to see how it likes some good Naggaroth steel as an aperitif. If this doesn't work .. secondary plan is wrestle it to the ground and try to choke it, so this really had better be useful

_________________RIP Group 28~ We Never Slept ~

Tue Aug 21, 2012 7:27 pm

Meteor

Executioner

Joined: Sun Jul 18, 2010 10:57 amPosts: 1956Location: Hell

As Jacks dueled, he wondered about the third guard within the tent. He knew he couldn't fight here for long, that third guard will be upon him eventually, and just as the thought passed, so too, did a feminine figure appeared through the canvas of the tent.

"Damn it all, the Dark Mother really is screwing with me here today. First a secretary, and now, a female guard."

He wished he took his late partner's poisons, it vexed him to be forced to fight and kill women. Should he flee? The thought amused Jacks as he danced as best as he could with this armoured guard. His focus was disrupted slightly as soon as he noticed she was a Shade, a Shade who bore the same mark as him.

"Leifon?" Jacks' eyes widened for a moment, anger flashed past him at the fleeting thought. But no doubt, the Dark Mother wouldn't present him his vengeance just like that. No, it was Grisha, one of his academy students, one of the bane of his existence. It was little wonder then, that Jacks wasn't detected as he stealthed to the tent. She was the least attentive within the academy, but what she lacked in awareness skills as a Shade, she certainly made up for with brute force. One could even mistaken her for an Executioness, relentless and an expert with her blades. What she was doing here is beyond Jacks, but the wretch certainly wasn't coming to say hi, and Jacks certainly wasn't about to let her get within dagger reach of his throat.

Jacks managed to get the upperhand on his current opponent, and methodically dispatched him with a well placed bolt into his neck. He was glad the fight was over, because Jacks knows he's going to need everything he had, to take down Grisha. Especially if he wants to avoid killing her in the process, that however, was a laughable idea, disarming her, only a naive fool would try.

"Damn this, so troublesome."

Jacks bounded sideways and methodically twisted around to face Grisha, his sword swiping up in natural reflex at the incoming blow. If there was one thing Jacks was familiar with Grisha, was that her combat pattern was always the same. Jacks might be compensated with an injured leg, but if he kept his wits about him, he should be able to fend her off at the very least.

Jacks will step sideways to avoid her direct charge path and bring his short sword around to block her incoming blow, keep her at a distance. Ask her what the hell was she doing in the Dalvian's employ as a guard, and if by any chance, could talk her out of needing to cause bloodshed between them both.

_________________What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

In the petrified glade Cananatra faced down the charge of three centigors. Though an unnatural mass of twisted ungulate and already twisted beastmen he realised that they would be vulnerable to most of the anti cavalry techniques he had been trained in. Unfortunately he was not ideals equipped to deal with a mounted foe but never the less he took up a stance and awaited their charge. He was not kept waiting long; as the largest elf present and the only one out in the open all three centigors thundered towards him. Arrows flashed almost unseen overhead to strike a second beastman down but Cananatra was focused on the incoming foe. As a long crude spear was levelled at his chest Cananatra waited till the last moment before dropping to one knee and slashing with his new long sword. Although not as heavy as his old blade the mastercrafted sword that had once been Siejls was preternaturally sharp and it sliced through the Centigor's leg with ease. Braying in pain the beastman reared up and tried to move away. As it did so Cananatra tried to move away as well, to regain his bearings but the other Centigor was still on the prowl. As Cananatra rose a knotted club of petrified wood smashed him from his feet. Pain and pleasure mingled together radiating out from the warrior's chest. Even through the thick armour he suspected a rib had been cracked, still that was not the sort of thing to keep Cananatra down. Ignoring the pain as best he could and embracing the perverted pleasure that accompanied it Cananatra onto his front and scrambled back to his feet just in time to see the club wielder wheel around for another pass. To his left the wounded centigor had composed itself and although it seemed to be limping it readied its spear for another charge.

Back in the clearing Carathyle decided to destroy the two remaining acolytes before trying his hand at their mistress. Ignoring the one behind him Carathyle rammed his shield forward into the spell caster ahead, knocking her back a step and pinning her staff to her body. As the staff was pressed against her the acolyte screamed, extinguishing the emerald flames but not before her robes were set alight. Stepping out Carathyle slashed across her belly but this time whether by skill or chance she managed to keep her staff between them. Without its sorceress protection however the staff could not hold against the fury of Cortiath in the hands of his son and the wood was hacked in two. Just as Carathyle was about to finish his now defenceless opponent however the forgotten acolyte made his presence felt. He too had extinguished his flame spell and in place of dancing jade the tip of his staff sparkled almost imperceptibly. With an open target he rammed it right between Carathyle’s shoulder blades. The impact itself went almost unnoticed through Carathyle's thick armour but the effect of the spell did not. The null stone on Carathyle's chest flared up once again, hotter than ever before. Lunging forwards Carathyle impaled the female acolyte but as he did so instinct told him that the null stone had finally failed. Instinct was proved correct as the spell took hold, a blast of terrible pain ran screaming through his body, a pain so intense that he momentarily blacked out. Seconds later he awoke, on the ground with his bloody sword still clenched in his fist, the acolyte still just behind him muttering under his breath, no doubt conjuring some fresh spell.

As Carathyle battled the elven servants of Aemili Syjahel pitted her sword against her immortal slave. The trouble was knowing how to kill a creature with no recognisable anatomy, a creature which appeared to ignore the laws of nature at will. Slashing attacks had already proven ineffective, the warrior in her came up with a basic alternative. Getting close enough to impale the creature was not going to be easy though. Like Syjahel the horror seemed to have realised that magical attacks had no effect on its prey, instead it launched a barrage of attacks against Syjahel. A large fist like appendage formed only to sprout a rotating jaw full of teeth as it swung at her, another limp sprouted from nowhere to spear at her side. It was all the elf could do to keep herself alive, her defensive training proving its value once again. Over the body of the beast she could see the sorceress had her eyes fixed upon the horror, smiling as though watching her child tormenting a slave. Using her shield to batter the larger limb out of the way and trusting to her armour to protect her against the less one Syjahel tore her way close to the central maw. In defence as she had hoped it let out a burst of flame; into this inferno Syjahel thrust her sword. She felt it slice into something just as she felt the null stone burning between her breasts. Behind the horror almost unnoticed Aemili stopped smiling and instead began choking, clutching at her throat. Distracted by this Syjahel almost didn't notice when the horror bounded forward on conjured legs, it outweighed the elf that was for sure and Syjahel was just barely able to keep her feet and a hold of her sword as she was sent stumbling back several paces. The horror was very much alive, but it clearly didn't like the cold steel up it.

Jacks was facing a horror of his own, if not in quite so literal a sense. A bully from a past life. Letting the dead guard fall to the ground Jacks turned to face the oncoming shade. Momentarily he thought of Leifon, of the vengeance he owed her, but it was not to be; instead Grisha dashed towards him. Even as he wondered how a shade of his clan had come to be working for the heretics Jacks was planning. He knew her fighting style, and she knew his, or at least knew what it had been. Wounded as he was Jacks knew he was at a disadvantage but he had avoided death at her hands before and was confident he could best her again. Twin swords scythed through the air where he had stood seconds before as Jacks swayed out of the way. Raising his sword Jacks parried a backslash but did not follow up giving her time to regain her balance. Taking advantage of this brief lull Jacks spoke up."So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Grisha looked startled to be addressed so by an enemy, pausing she seemed to look at Jacks anew, a light of recognition sprang up in her eyes."I could ask the same weakling," she sneered "city folk need guides, shades need gold. Are all your city folk dead already? I would hate for you to keep them waiting." She looked ready to launch herself back into combat but for some reason hesitated. Out of the corner of his eye Jacks could guess why, the injured guard back regained his feet and leaning on his spear was making his way towards them. The odds it seemed were being stacked against him yet again.

-Drainial

_________________Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

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Sat Aug 25, 2012 8:33 pm

Carathyle maveric

Malekith's Best Friend

Joined: Sun Jul 17, 2011 11:39 pmPosts: 1157Location: Within the system, masked as a member

So far... his plan worked out wonders, three of the acolytes were dead, the first died during the charge, the second died through a rupture in his stomach, the third... well, the third died the least painful and surprising death so far. With his sword embedded in the soft flesh of the unarmoured elf, Carathyle could feel the triumph over their opponents slowly coming closer and closer with every step and every slash, it was however then that he let his guard down for a minor second, but his last remaining opponent proved to be using these minor moments to his advantage, as Carathyle could barely feel the touch of the staff. The Null Talisman flared up way hotter then normal, and that was when Carathyle figured the worst.

"Well this sucks." Carathyle whispered merely moment before a terrible pain struck his back, forcing him to his knee as a short second of darkness embraced his eyes. His sword, still clenched in his hand, his face toward the dirt of the earth. His ear picked up soft chanting, no doubt the acolyte was chanting another spell to cast at Carathyle. His eyes quickly looked over the battlefield, in search of possible targets from his respective position. However, no doubt the acolyte would pursue if he broke from combat, and considering the talisman became useless, Carathyle figured that charging the Witch on own accord wouldn't be smart.

Raising himself to a stance again, Carathyle decided on the only possible way that so far worked wonders for him and that was to lower his defense and up his offensive potential. In other words, his left hand stretched and released the shield from its grasp, which dropped to the ground. Carathyle turned around toward the acolyte with a glare of pure frustration and hatred. "You're in my way, just like your companions. Perhaps running away might do you good, you don't want me as your opponent." Carathyle provoked, both his hands wrapped up tightly around the leather that covered the grip of the hilt, keeping it between him and the acolyte. Thankfully, Har Ganeth is the city of the Executioners, this stance shouldn't reveal too much."Last chance blasphemer, before I'll show you that Khaine is the one true lord of all!"

Carathyle will drop the shield and try to provoke the acolyte to attack him with the staff, which he'd cut in half, followed by the acolyte. Keep the distance close by enough to quickly cut off the head of the acolyte if he plans on using a fireball or something like that against him.

Jacks could only let out a slight chuckle at the aggressive temper of his old 'friend'. "Come now, we haven't seen each other for years and still the first thing you spit at me is about killing me? You haven't changed one bit, neither is the fact I'll walk away alive and you unconscious on a pile of dirt."

Jacks was surprisingly calm now that he knew who his opponent was. Still, he couldn't be too careless with an injured leg, and now that the other guard had manned up to the bolt embedded into his flesh, the odds were against him once again. Still, it seemed as though he was just an ordinary Dalvian guard, who wouldn't suddenly turn into a frenzied beast. Seems like the Eye wasn't picking up on magical properties within the elves, but more of a different life essence based on race? He hoped that theory was true, otherwise he really might have to flee.

Regardless, Jacks had to fight now, so he shifted his position so that the guard and Grisha were both within vision. One dead, one injured, and Grisha. The rest went with the herd, good, that's all the enemies accounted for in the area. He took advantage of the temporary silence and lull of battle to scan his surroundings and the trees above for any hidden enemies, but to also listen for the sounds of battle from his other companions, to confirm that they're still alive.

I pray Naylia made it to the willow tree safely. Jacks was glad he sent her ahead first, the fight here was more troublesome than he first imagined.

Jacks chuckled again, "There's fewer noise coming from your acolytes, and there goes our young noble again." as he heard the familiar voice of master maveric resound in a war cry. How could one not recognise the vocal and strong opinionated voice of their young noble?

"Well, seems like my friends are still alive, so it looks like the only way to join them, is to walk out of here alive, like all the other times." he was referring to past duals with Grisha, as well as his recent adventures with his pack of misfits.

"Come, I'll take you both on."

Jacks reloaded his Repeater Handbow and bent his knees slightly in a ready position. His leg was still injured, so he will have to make smaller steps to avoid his enemies rather than his normal acrobatic leaps. He wondered if he was a duellist in his past life?

Small talk to ease into the fight and to buy him some time to scan the area for anything unusual as well as confirming the well being of Syjahel and Carathyle.

Reload and wait for them to come. Jacks will aim to just try and knock the wind out of Grisha with the butt of his sword or handbow, avoid harming/killing her. The guard is injured, so when Jacks shoots or attacks, he will aim for the spot he injured. Armour won't protect the guard from pain, put a bolt into his face at point blank when the opportunity arises.

_________________What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

As the beastmen charged a second flight of arrows reduced their numbers yet again. He had to admit that these elves had some serious skill with their weapons, and unlike the shades didn’t feel the need to see how close they could skim the arrow past him when they fired. At least it dropped his enemies to two rather than three. As the first closed in he dropped to his knees, clearly something the beastman wasn’t expecting because his weapon didn’t come anywhere close, and cut at its legs. The blade bit deeply, though lopping off the limb would have been preferable. Despite this its charge was checked and it was likely crippled for life, even if it escaped later.

Springing back to his feet Cananatra tried to move away and find the other beastman. It must have been an acrobat in a previous life because it had somehow managed to stop and circle back around so fast. The first he knew of it was as the club it carried slammed into him. The plates on his armour flexed under the blow, hard steel pressing in and punching him in the chest. He felt a rib go with a crack, something which had happened irritably often before being knocked from his feet. As he sucked in a breath pain flared in his side, followed immediately by the pleasurable sensation that was a gift from his god. All in all he was beginning to seriously appreciate that gift, it made it so much easier to continue fighting. Pushing himself back to his feet he saw the club centigor pulling around for another pass and the one he’d crippled was making certain to try and have another crack at him.

Well now, we cant be having that now can we? Deciding he’d rather not face another charge from a pair of centigor Cananatra ran towards the one with the club.

Cananatra will charge the one with the club, hopefully before it has a chance to get about and build up some speed of its own. He’ll close with it to prevent it charging. He’ll then also circle to the right as he attacks to place it between him and the spear armed centigor. Though it is unlikely the spear could get up to any real speed, he’d rather not take the chance. When attacking he’ll attack low, as that is more difficult for a centigor to block.

Unorthodoxy seemed to be the order of the day for the ever-dwindling warband. Grittng her teeth against the unholy wave of pain unleashed whenever her null stone flared, the warrior-woman kept her resolve. Syjahel gripped her sword and thust it deep into the thing's throat, feeling something give way in a more permanent fashion at last. Behind the lumbering monstrosity, Aemilii clutched at her own throat in sympathy, choking. That had to be significant. Syjahel knew little of magic, but she knew pain. She just had to stay alive long enough to work out how to turn it to her advantage.

Keeping her shield up it was all she could do to keep her feet as the horror attempted to bowl her over by main force. She avoided the main brunt of the barging rush, but it was close. If she had been more certain of penetrating the thing;s hide she would have allowed it to bowl her to the floor so as to get a strike at its unarmed belly. As it was, she couldn't be sure it would even feel her sword in what should be its guts. No, she'd have to keep trying to attack it from within.

Briefly, she wished for a handful of shuriken or something like caltrops to give it something to chew. But the young noblewoman was no Shade or Assassin. She would have to rely on her agility where the beast was strong, her swiftness of foot where it lumbered. Again.

With a murmured prayer to Khaine, Syjahel prepared to stir the thing's vitals once more. She hoped fervently that Aemilii would share her pet's pain. She would love to see if wounding the soft-skinned Sorceress would also hurt the horror, but she could see no way past the beast yet.

Unless she gets the chance to dodge past the horror and stab the Sorceress somewhere - anywhere - soft and squashy, Syjahel will concentrate on dodging the horror so she can get another stab into its mouth. This time, hoping to kind of stir it up inside to give its changing organs and its mistress something to think about.

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